Enoch Thompson Prep AU
by hollygofightly
Summary: Gillian Darmody is the beautiful queen bee of Enoch Thompson Prep; Richard Harrow is the mysterious new kid hiding demons of his own. It would be social suicide if anyone found out, but she finds herself drawn to him all the same. Can he see beyond her tragic past and help her learn to trust again, or will they prove to be each other's undoing? Featuring cameos from your favs.
1. Chapter 1

It was a Tuesday; years later, this detail would stick out in her mind the way that seemingly random, inconsequential details always do when the ones that really matter slip through the cracks. It was a Tuesday, and Evelyn had been whispering behind her back before first period, as if Gillian didn't have the power to make her life exceedingly difficult in retaliation. She had been plotting her revenge—wavering between giving the traitor a taste of her own medicine with some wicked rumors of her own creation and ensuring that Mr. Kessler just happened to be passing through the girl's floor while Evelyn was entertaining one of her many one night stands—when he walked through the door and changed everything.

It was a Tuesday; he knew because his memory had never once betrayed him, even when it was all he wished for in the world, even when his mind raced with horrible recollections that kept him awake at night. It was these demons that had sent him here in the first place, thousands of miles from home to what his parents had hoped would be a fresh start. The ivy-strewn brick of this old world behemoth was a far cry from the weather-worn farmhouse of Plover, and he smoothed his new uniform stiffly to mask his overwhelming nerves. His train had been delayed, and his arrival in the wee hours the night before would have cost him some much needed sleep, had sleep ever come easily in the first place. But even deprived of rest, his mind was sharper than he cared for. Sharp enough to take in every detail of these echoing halls, of the tall oak doors that contained them, and of the girl who's gracefully curved cheeks and haunted eyes caught his attention the moment he entered that first classroom on that brisk Tuesday morning, and changed everything.


	2. Chapter 2

"Don't I get a hello from my girl?" Charlie threw a ropy arm around Gillian's shoulder, breaking the spell between herself and the stranger, who hurried to an empty desk on the far side of the classroom. She shrugged out from under the lacrosse captain's embrace. "What?"

"We went over this last night," she murmured, her voice venomous. "I'm not your girl anymore. Not after—"

"Mr. Luciano, please take your seat." For once, Gillian was thrilled to hear Mrs. Jeunet's haughty accent, and offered her homeroom teacher a smile of unspoken appreciation. "Now, ladies and gentlemen," Mrs. Jeunet continued, "we have a new student in our midst. Please give a warm welcome to mister—" Her voice trailed as she consulted a slip of paper in her hand.

"Harrow," the stranger interrupted, standing and clearing a frog from his throat. "Richard Harrow."

Gillian couldn't help herself; she turned to study his face, encouraged by his boldness. He was tall, thin but somehow imposing, with a sheet of thick, black hair that he had combed back in an old-fashioned style. His eyes locked once more with hers and she struggled to define their color as it shifted in the light from blue to green to grey. She was so transfixed by this mystery that she nearly missed the shiny raised flesh of a long, jagged scar that stretched across his left cheek. The sight of it shook her from her trance; she shook her head and focused hard on her hands, folded neatly on the desk to mask their trembling.

She realized with a blush that soaked through her like a shot of whiskey that the din of the classroom had again melted away as she'd stared at him, and now it came rushing back—and with it, the whispered insults and cruel laughter, led by her sometimes boyfriend and his buddies from the lacrosse team. She narrowed her eyes at Charlie; he merely winked at her in return.

Looking back, Richard would remember his first day at Enoch Thompson Prep for the roller coaster of emotions it brought with it, mostly negative. He found his classes to be dull, far from the intellectually challenging fare his father had been promised, and his classmates to be snooty bullies just begging to be put in their place. The only bright spot of his morning had been the sight of that girl, whose angelic face offered a hint of great sadness within, but the idea of speaking to her sent his stomach reeling. He knew better than to risk his scholarship on puppy love, no matter how pretty a package it came in.

Lunch promised to be worse than his classes, forcing him into the lion's den without the safety of a lecturer's warning eye. He clutched his tray and scanned the room for an empty seat, finally spotting one just as a loud clatter caught his and the room's attention.

A boy in a letterman's jacket stood before him, a sly smile on his face as he lorded over what remained of Richard's lunch, now in a heap on the floor. "Whoops," he said, "my bad."

Richard's lip quivered as he swallowed his words and bent down to pick up the tray.

"What's the matter?" the boy said, laughing as his friends egged him on. "You gonna cry?"

"Charlie, that's enough." It was the girl from homeroom, stepping between them like a forcefield.

"Fuck off, Gillian. Let him fight his own battles."

Richard stood, gently pushing Gillian away as he stepped towards Charlie, staring down at the bully with fire in his eyes. A laundry list of punishments flashed through his mind, and he could read the uncertainty in Charlie's face as he towered over him. He was just about to open his mouth when—

"All right, all right. Break it up." A teacher had finally intervened, but Richard didn't stand down until he felt a hand on his shoulder forcing him back.

"Mr. Thompson, I was just—"

"I don't wanna hear it, Luciano. Now clean this mess up before I give you another week of detention." He turned to Richard, his face stern but an unmistakable softness in his eyes. "You okay, kid?" Richard nodded. "Go get yourself a new lunch. I'll let you eat out on the quad, just this once."

Richard glanced at the girl—Gillian—as he headed for the door. She gave him an apologetic look but made no move to comfort him. He shook his head and continued on his way.

"Don't mind them," a voice said as he reached the hall. A girl stepped out of the shadows, a smear of paint on her cheek and her dark curls pulled back into a messy bun. "They're jerks but they harmless. All they care about is their stupid sports. Want an apple?"

"Thanks," he said, catching the fruit she tossed his way. "I'm Richard. I'm new here."

"I figured." She smiled and held out her hand. "I'm Angela."


End file.
